Soap, Steam, & Safety
by VeniaAmuletum
Summary: What was life for Ginny like during the Deathly Hallows? Oneshot! G/H.


**Soap, Steam, & Safety**

It was one of those mornings where Ginny simply could not get out of the shower.

Madame-Moussane's-Magical-Berry-Medley Shampoo had long since been washed from her hair, spiraling down the drain in waves of colorful foam. She had given up telling herself, '_Right. Just one more minute_…' several minutes ago, and was now resigned to standing under the hot spray until it ran cold.

Her _thoughts_ were already running quite cold, and she caught herself staring absently at the taupe tiled wall in front of her as images played out in her mind's eye. They were scattered and frenzied, and as they ran wild, some part of her brain wondered how she could _possibly_ even have so many thoughts at such an ungodly hour.

She imagined that it was most likely because this particular strain of thoughts _never_ ceased to run. It was like a rewind spell gone terribly wrong, causing this particular length of tape to play _over _and _over_ again. _Harry, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Luna, Harry, Voldemort, Harry, Fred and George, Harry…_ And when she was alone and sleep deprived, as she certainly was now, her tired defenses fell, and the tape took over.

Absentmindedly, Ginny ran her hands over the depleted bar of soap on the wooden rack in the corner of the shower. She brought her hands to her face and scrubbed, imagining she could wash all her worry away. She was so _bloody sick_ of the worry. She hated being a worrier- her mum worried enough for half the Wizarding World at large- it was stupid and bloody pointless of her to worry as well. But how could she not?

She scanned the shower for some small task she could do, and settled for pulling another dollop of Madame-Moussane's-Magical-Mellowing-Mousse through her already limp hair.

It was the not knowing that drove her crazy. Ginny felt sure that if she _knew _where Ron, Hermione, and Harry were, her mind might be at ease. If she _knew_ where Luna was- if she knew where Fred and George were broadcasting from… If she _knew_ that all of them were _alive_… maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

There was an orange moth clinging to the opposite wall of the shower, its wings too wet with steam to fly. Ginny offered it a finger, and it slowly climbed on, allowing her to transfer it to the small window above the shower walls. She slid the glass open, and gently lowered the moth, letting it crawl onto a fluttering leaf that brushed the windowpane.

She hardly saw it settle down to safety- hardly noticed herself close the window, halting the path of the steam that billowed out into the cold March morning. All she could see was Harry's face swimming back and forth through her memory. A new weight had settled on him during the time he had spent at his relative's last summer. By the time he had arrived at the Burrow, he had been more distant than ever before- more unreachable to everyone- even her. It was a distance that only he could understand. She had finally come to terms with that.

It broke something deep inside of her to think of all the things that were so distinctively _Harry_; the way he could look so _haunted_ when he thought no one was looking, and the way he could be instantly distracted in that eager, boyish, _orphaned_ way of his- when the family was all together, counting him as one of their own. She wondered if, wherever they were, Ron and Hermione were enough to distract him from his demons.

She felt the familiar cycle starting in her heart. Anger at not being allowed to tag along- always the baby, always the darling- she rolled her eyes at the thought, and snapped the lid of her mum's frizz-ease-rinse back on with bitter force. She knew she was capable of everything the rest of them were doing. But, she also knew that it was her lifelong mark, as the youngest and only girl in a family _chock full of boys_, to always be protected above all else. And she _loved_ that. Her heart softened at the thought of all her brothers, all _fighting a war_, and then returning to the Burrow with humor and optimism, mostly as a show for her and her mother. Her heart ached with love for them, and she bit her lip, forcing the thought of something happening to one of them away.

It was unbearable, _absolutely unbearable_ to contemplate- but sometimes Ginny would get the horrible feeling that, what with her already _huge_ family's open-door tendency to take others in, the number of people she loved dearly enough to call family was well into the 20s. And what with _all_ of them but her allowed to be in The Order- on the front lines of the war… The odds terrified her.

Fear rose in her chest, constricting her throat, but it stopped there. Something inside of Ginny would never let herself cry with fear or worry. Hot anger would always burn it away first, and she felt it this morning as she always did; anger with Voldemort and all of his idiot followers, anger with her family for not letting her fight, and most of all, anger with herself for having to go round this cycle of feelings and thoughts _once again_.

The water was lukewarm. As if waking from a reverie, Ginny stopped the spray, and her thoughts stopped with it.

She grabbed her fluffy yellow towel from the peg next to the red shower curtain, and dried off. She wrapped it around herself, and grabbed another ratty old towel from the cupboard to turban around her mass of wet hair. The small upstairs bathroom of the Burrow was thick with perfumed steam, and she breathed it in for a moment, smiling a little. Wiping off the mirror as best as she could, she stared hard at her reflection, distorted by lingering droplets of water. Her skin was pink from what she estimated had been a good forty minutes in the hot water, and her eyes were bright. _Well. _She thought, relieved as always to see that her eyes still contained some semblance of a spark, _at least I know _I'm_ still alive…_

She got dressed in the still morning air of the Burrow at sunrise. She used to _love_ those rare days when she rose early at home, and the air was impossibly still. She used to like to imagine her home as a living, thinking thing- breathing slowly and preparing for the imminent awakening of seven children and two adults within its body. But now the stillness was a tense reminder of everyone's absence- of the unknown.

She padded down the old wooden steps, to the sound of hushed voices. When she entered the kitchen, she was slightly surprised to find her mother and father, whispering animatedly to Charlie, Fred, George, Remus, and a _very_ pregnant Tonks. Then panic surged through her.

"What's happened?" she asked immediately, unable to keep the urgency out of her voice. The seven adults around the table jumped and looked around at her. Then her mother _smiled_.

"_Dear_, you _are_ up early, aren't you? We weren't expecting you until well after ten," Molly rose and walked towards Ginny with her arms open.

"What's happened?" Ginny repeated, feeling flabbergasted by her mother's calm happiness.

"Everyone's safe." her mother beamed warmly. Ginny hadn't seen her smile once all week. "We've just had a message from Bill and Fleur. We don't know the details, but Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Dean Thomas, and _Mr. Olivander_ all showed up at Shell Cottage early this morning!" Molly's eyes were shining with tears, "Everyone is safe!"

She pulled Ginny into a tight hug, and Ginny felt something inside of her crack. She moaned with relief, and before she knew it, she was crying into her mother's shoulder like she had rarely ever cried before. They were _alive._ _They were safe_! Relief flooded her heart, and silenced that ever-running tape in her mind. _Harry was still alive_. Harry was safe. _Luna was alive_! Ginny cried even harder, not realizing until that moment, that a large part of her had genuinely believed Luna to be dead. Ron and Hermione… _Dean_… Mr. Olivander…

"But-," she managed to unwrap herself from her mother's soft embrace, wiping her face, and smiling incredulously, "- _How?_ "

"We don't know for sure, but we think they escaped the Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor," said Charlie, rising to walk towards her.

"Malfoy Manor?" Ginny repeated, still feeling dumbfounded. Of course they had escaped from _Malfoy Bloody Manor_. She grinned.

"Hermione was injured, but Fleur says she can patch her up no problem." Charlie pulled her into a hug as well, mussing her damp hair. Fresh tears sprang to Ginny's eyes at the thought of the beautiful new female addition to their family, and the bushy-haired girl she _knew_ she would one day get to call her sister.

"Oy, Gin, it's _good news_, you got that right?" Fred and George had come to smash her into a sandwich as they loved to do. She laughed freely, and the sound was strange and wonderful to her own ears. She waved them away.

"I _know_. I'm _happy_! They're happy tears, alright?"

Fred glanced sardonically at George.

"It's alright George, our little Ginevra just needs to hold up her place as the only girl in the family."

George wiped the moisture from her cheeks like a mother fussing over a child.

Ginny grinned widely and swatted at his hands.

_They were safe._

* * *

** A/N- For 'Jury of You Peers Competition'.**


End file.
